The stone hall had fallen quiet, save for the soft crackle of firewood burning low in the hearth. The warmth barely reached the chill clinging to the air—a stillness left behind in the wake of Elder Renward’s revelations.

  Sammy stood near the arched window, the pale blue morning just starting to bleed into gold beyond the village rooftops. His fingers drummed against the hilt of one of his blades. Not restlessly. Just... aware. Present. Different.

  Behind him, Lola sat on the floor with Nimby curled beside her, the Mist Dragon’s visage swimming through her mind. She traced its edges with gentle fingers in her mind’s eye. There was no fear in her expression—only quiet thoughtfulness. The kind that comes after your life has changed and your heart hasn't caught up yet.

  Pupster leaned against a support beam near the fire, arms crossed, spear resting against the wall behind him. He hadn't said much since Renward finished speaking—but that wasn't unusual. When he was quiet, it meant he was thinking. And when Pupster thought, he always came back sharper.

  Renward watched them all from his place by the fire. There was pride in his gaze, but also something heavier—like sorrow wrapped in patience.

  “The Zerodians have returned,” the elder repeated, voice low and slow, as if tasting the words again. “And so begins a new age.”

  Sammy turned from the window, his tail flicking once behind him. “Then there’s no time to waste. If these creatures are out there, we’re not the only ones who’ll be looking.”

  Lola rose to her feet and crossed the room to stand beside him. “But how do we find them? And even if we do—what makes us worthy to keep them?”

  “You’re asking the right questions,” Renward said. He moved to the nearby shelf and pulled down a roll of aged parchment—carefully unfolding it onto the table between them. “This is where you begin.”

  The map was old. Not ancient, but older than anyone in Vey. Stained with time and use. He tapped a point near the eastern coast.

  “Vharon. A trading city. One of the last places where knowledge is still kept...openly.”

  “Openly?” Pupster echoed.

  Renward nodded. “Not everyone welcomes the old truths anymore. But Vharon has its exceptions. One in particular. A monk named Rory.”

  Pupster groaned at the mention of the name.

  Sammy blinked. “A monk?”

  “He’s... unconventional,” Renward admitted, a subtle smile creeping onto his weathered face. “But he knows things. Ancient magic. Lost histories. Find him, and he may point the way forward.”

  Sammy exchanged a look with Lola, who gave the smallest nod.

  Pupster pushed off the beam. “Then we leave today.”

  The trio gathered their things in silence, each of them going through the ritual motions of preparation—more deliberate now. There was weight behind every buckle tightened, every strap pulled, every weapon checked.

  Sammy laid out his twin blades running a cloth over their edges. is hand moved in slow, practiced strokes—more out of habit than need.

  They were old. Worn. Scarred in places no sharpening would ever fix. But they were his.

  He turned one over, thumb brushing the leather-wrapped hilt. It was loose—again. He’d tightened it a dozen times before. He probably would a dozen more.

  These weren’t fancy weapons. No etched runes. No elemental cores humming with power. But they’d been with him since he was a child—since before everything.

  Since before his parents disappeared.

  Before Vey. Before Lola grew into magic and left him trying to catch up.

  They were all he had left that felt… familiar. Safe.

  One of the blades still had a chipped edge from the time he used it to dig through rubble during a storm. The other was wrapped too tightly at the base, because he’d re-bound it with one of his father’s old belts.

  They didn’t belong in a story about heroes. But they belonged to him. And that was enough.

  Lola opened her satchel beside the fire, checking her herb pouches and enchanted bandages and mana potions from Renward’s store cupboards, just in case.

  Pupster removed his armour piece by piece, checking the clasps and joints before fastening it again. His spear leaned nearby—solid, heavy, deadly. His old cloak had a fresh tear. He folded it neatly anyway.

  Nimby perched on a wooden post, his sharp little eyes following them. When Lola reached to give him a scratch behind the ear, he chirped softly and nuzzled her hand.

  Finally, as the sun crept higher and cast new light across the village, they stepped outside.

  The air was brisk. Not quite cold. But brimming with energy. As if the land itself sensed what was about to unfold.

  Sammy adjusted the map in his pouch and looked toward the road leading east. “Still time to turn back,” he joked, his voice light despite the weight he carried.

  Lola smiled faintly. “Tempting. But no.”

  Pupster gave a quiet grunt of approval and took the lead.

  They didn’t say goodbye. Not properly. Not yet. A few villagers watched from porches or windows, but no one called out. Maybe they didn’t know what to say. Maybe they just understood.

  As the trio passed the stone marker signalling the edge of Vey, Lola glanced over her shoulder one last time. The rooftops shimmered in the morning sun. The wind tugged gently at her cloak. Then she turned, facing forward.

  They were no longer just villagers from a sleepy town, and this was their first step into the unknown.

  With a shared glance, they set off on the path laid before them, the map in hand, ready to find Rory and whatever else awaited them. And though the path was uncertain, the trio knew one thing for sure—they had each other. And that was enough to face whatever the world would throw their way.

  The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-kissed earth and pine trees, and a faint breeze stirred the leaves as if to beckon them on. Sammy adjusted his twin blades, a grin spreading across his face. The journey ahead promised adventure, and he couldn’t wait to see what lay beyond the borders of their quiet village.

  Lola stood a little apart from the group. Though she was quiet, the tension in her posture was unmistakable. She could feel something stirring within her, something unformed yet undeniably present, like the first stirrings of new magic yet to manifest fully.

  Pupster, silent and focused, gave the group a reassuring nod, his massive frame an anchor of strength. He had spent years training for moments like this, although he'd never expected it to come in the form of a Mysterious, long-lost power buried deep in the earth.

  His hand rested on his spear, a steady symbol of the guard he was meant to lead.

  Nimby, ever alert, perched on a branch high above them, his wings flapping restlessly. The small creature’s eyes darted from shadow to shadow as if constantly scanning for threats, his tiny tail twitching in anticipation.

  The road stretched before them—long, winding, and uncertain. They had heard the stories from Renward, the village elder, about the ancient Zerodians, but now that the knowledge was real, the weight of their mission pressed heavily on their shoulders.

  As the day wore on, the four travellers fell into a rhythm, the forest around them whispering quietly in the mid-morning light. Despite the excitement, there was an undercurrent of unease that none of them could ignore.

  With every step farther from the village, the world felt larger and more dangerous. They weren’t just children playing in a world of fantasy anymore. They were adventurers with a purpose, tasked with finding ancient beings that held untold power.

  Lola was the first to break the silence. "Do you think the other Zerodians are really out there?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with the same uncertainty she felt inside.

  Sammy flashed her a grin, eager to fill the silence with something lighter. "Of course they are. It’s not a myth anymore. We’ve seen the first one—what’s to stop us from finding the others?"

  Pupster's deep voice rumbled, adding a grounded note to Sammy's excitement. "The first one was just a taste. The road ahead will test us all. We need to be ready."

  Nimby chirped, as if in agreement, his tiny form bouncing on the branch above them.

  The mood shifted as the terrain began to change. The winding trail of the forest gave way to rocky cliffs that bordered a vast canyon, where the sun’s rays struggled to break through the thick canopy.

  The air was heavier here, and the distant sound of shifting rocks echoed in the distance.

  The air had changed, fresh but cool as they carved their way through the forest brush, the silence between them not awkward—just thoughtful. Every step reminded them they weren’t in their village anymore. This was real. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

  Sammy broke the silence first, a grin tugging at his lips. “Anyone else feel like they got tossed into one of Renward’s bedtime stories?”

  Lola offered a soft chuckle. “Except this time, the monsters are real, and we’re not waking up safe in our beds.”

  “Details,” Sammy said with a playful shrug. “I still think we’ve got this.”

  Ahead, Pupster said nothing. His spear was gripped tight, eyes scanning the woods, feline ears twitching at every shift in the underbrush.

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  Nimby fluttered above them, darting between branches like a restless spark.

  The terrain gradually shifted as the trees thinned, golden sunlight filtered through revealing a narrow canyon path ahead. Craggy cliffs boxed them in, the shadows of the rocks stretching long and ominous.

  A growl echoed through the canyon.

  They froze.

  “You heard that, right?” Sammy asked, already loosening his blades.

  The ground rumbled.

  Three Fangbeasts burst from the cliffs like living avalanches—all muscle, fur, and gnashing teeth.

  Their bodies were low to the ground, spines bristling along their backs like rusted spears.

  Thick grey fur clung to their twisted forms in patchy, matted clumps, and their jaws hung open too wide, revealing layered fangs that didn’t stop at their mouths.

  Eyes glowed red in the half-light—feral, intelligent, and hungry. Their paws hit the stone with bone-snapping force, claws scraping grooves as they stalked forward with unnatural speed.

  And when they growled, it wasn’t just sound. It was pressure.

  “Positions!” Pupster snapped, stepping into the lead.

  Sammy surged forward, blades flashing. “Let’s dance!”

  He met the first Fangbeast with a flurry of feints and rapid strikes, his movements agile and unpredictable. He ducked under a claw swipe, twisted around its flank, and sliced across its ribs.

  Pupster charged the second beast with sheer momentum, his spear slamming into its side like a battering ram. He pivoted and struck again, relentless and precise.

  Lola remained at the rear, hands raised, already murmuring a healing chant. Her magic shimmered with familiar golden light—until a strange shimmer ran through it, a misty distortion she didn’t recognise.

  She paused, unsettled, but pushed on, channelling the spell to seal a fresh cut on Sammy’s shoulder.

  Something had changed.

  Above, Nimby darted through the sky, circling the third Fangbeast and whipping up a sudden gust of wind with a flick of his wings.

  The blast disoriented the beast, forcing it to stagger—just long enough for Sammy to slam a boot into its jaw and follow up with a finishing blow.

  Pupster’s battle was slower, more deliberate. The second beast clawed at him furiously, but his spear kept it at bay. With a roar, he drove his weapon home—straight through its heart.

  The third, wounded and enraged, turned to flee—only for Nimby to dive, knocking it off balance. It tumbled backward, disappearing over the canyon’s edge with a pitiful howl.

  Silence fell again, broken only by the party’s heavy breathing.

  Sammy wiped his brow. “Not bad for our first real fight as real adventurers”.

  Pupster checked his spear for damage. “We got lucky. Stay sharp.”

  Nimby landed gently on Lola’s shoulder; feathers scorched and twitching, his bat-like wings folded tight, his impossibly blue eyes glimmered with pride.

  She smiled and stroked his feathers. “Good work, little guy. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  The forest deepened, sunlight now scattered and faint. Nimby flitted restlessly, his feathers bristling.

  “What’s wrong, buddy?” Sammy asked.

  Nimby chirped low, a wavering trill.

  Lola frowned. “He’s uneasy. Something’s not right.”

  “He doesn’t sense danger,” Sammy translated, “but he says something’s off. Like... we’re being watched.”

  Pupster’s hand went to his spear instinctively. “Keep moving. Don’t let your guard down.”

  They pushed onward, mist now curling at their boots like ghostly fingers. Sammy crouched and inspected the ground.

  “Tracks. Heavy. Humanoid. Big.”

  Pupster knelt beside him, ears twitching. “That’s a golem. Judging by the depth... recently active.”

  “But what’s it doing out here?” Lola asked.

  “Either guarding something,” Pupster said grimly, “or hunting something.”

  A loud, grinding noise echoed through the trees. Stone on stone. Then a tremor.

  Nimby screeched, wings flaring as he launched skyward.

  “Golem!” Sammy shouted, drawing his blades.

  The mist parted to reveal it—towering, ancient, and armoured in moss-covered stone. Blue energy pulsed in its chest, glowing through a fractured core. Its steps made the earth tremble.

  “Hold formation!” Pupster barked.

  Lola’s eyes locked on the hulking figure. “We’re not ready for this...”

  Sammy smiled, adrenaline rising. “Since when has that ever stopped us?”

  The clearing had an unnatural stillness as the towering stone golem stood before them.

  Its etched runes pulsed with a menacing red glow, casting eerie light across the forest. The golem’s single crimson eye locked onto the group, and for a moment, no one moved.

  Sammy broke the silence first. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  He surged forward, blades gleaming as he slashed at the creature’s knee. Sparks flew on impact, but the stone barely chipped.

  Behind him, Pupster sized up the massive construct. “Aim for the runes,” he rumbled, adjusting his grip on his spear.

  “It might disrupt its power.” He leapt high into the air, spear arcing toward the golem’s head.

  The weapon connected with a sharp crack, forcing the creature to stagger back a step.

  “I don’t think it liked that!” Sammy grinned, dodging a retaliatory swing from the golem’s colossal arm.

  The ground shook as the massive limb smashed into the earth, narrowly missing him.

  Lola stayed further back, her hands trembling slightly as charged her spell.

  “I’ll keep you all healed,” she called, casting a shimmering light over the team.

  The warmth of her spell bolstered their strength, but the unease in her voice was unmistakable.

  Nimby chirped urgently, flitting around her head in tight circles. Though his sounds were incomprehensible to the others, Sammy glanced back. “I know, Nimby. We’ve gotta find a way to end this fast.”

  The golem roared, a sound like grinding stones, and raised both its fists.

  With a thunderous crash, it slammed them into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet. Pupster was the first to recover, rolling into a crouch.

  His golden eyes narrowed as he charged again, driving his spear toward the golem’s chest.

  The blow connected, but it barely seemed to slow the creature. “This thing’s tougher than we thought,” Pupster growled. “We need a plan.” Sammy gritted his teeth, his tail swishing in frustration.

  “If we keep hitting the runes, maybe we can weaken it!”

  He darted forward again, this time targeting a separate glowing symbol on the golem’s left arm. His blades found purchase, chipping away at the rune and dimming its light.

  The golem’s movements faltered, but only briefly. It swiped at Sammy with terrifying speed, the blow grazing him and sending him sprawling.

  “Sammy!” Lola cried, rushing toward him. She knelt beside him, her hands glowing as she cast a quick healing spell. “You’re okay, right?”

  “I’ve had worse,” he grunted, pushing himself up. “But this thing is no joke.”

  Sammy’s eyes flicked toward the golem. “We’re running out of time. This thing’s getting stronger.”

  The golem seemed to confirm this as its runes flared brighter, and it unleashed another devastating attack. This time, a beam of red energy shot from its eye, narrowly missing the team and searing the earth where it struck.

  Pupster was panting now, his armour scratched and dented. “We can’t take many more of those.”

  Lola pushed herself to her feet after rolling sideways to avoid the last blast, panic creeping into her voice. “I—I don’t know what else to do. My spells aren’t enough.”

  Sammy and Pupster regrouped near her, both showing signs of exhaustion.

  The golem lumbered toward them; its crimson eye glowing ominously.

  The ground trembled with each step. “We need something big,” Sammy muttered, his blades trembling in his hands. He glanced at Lola. “Lola, we need something. Anything.”

  “I don’t—” Her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes. She raised her staff, her hands shaking. “I don’t know what to do!”

  The golem raised its fists again, preparing to strike. In that moment, a faint voice echoed in Lola’s mind. It was deep and resonant, filled with ancient power:

  “Call me, and I will come”

  Lola’s breath hitched as she closed her eyes. She thought of the Mist Dragon, the way it had seemed to resonate with her earlier.

  “Mist Dragon... if you can hear me, please help us!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

  The air around her grew cold, and a swirling mist began to rise from the ground. It spread outward, shrouding the clearing in an otherworldly haze.

  The golem hesitated, its movements slowing as the mist thickened. Then came the roar—resonant and deep, shaking the stones beneath them.

  The mist began to coalesce, forming the serpentine shape of the Mist Dragon. Its glowing blue eyes burned with intensity as it emerged fully, its sleek body twisting through the air.

  Lola gasped as the Mist Dragon turned its gaze toward her—its eyes meeting hers not with command, but with recognition. Something sparked. Not words. Not thoughts. A feeling. A nudge.

  Instinct took over.

  Cold light welled in her palms, soft at first, then blinding. Her breath caught.

  “I—I don’t know what I’m doing—” she whispered, raising her hand—

  And the frost answered.

  A lance of ice erupted from her fingertips, spiralling with crystalline force. It struck the golem dead centre, freezing across its chest in jagged arcs of blue.

  The central rune fizzled, sputtered, and cracked beneath the impact.

  Lola staggered back, staring at her hands. Frost clung to her fingers.

  “What... was that?” she breathed.

  The Mist Dragon let out another melodic roar and unleashed a powerful blast of icy breath.

  The golem’s movements became sluggish as frost spread across its stone body. Sammy seized the opportunity, dashing forward to slash at the frozen sections, breaking chunks away.

  Pupster leapt onto the golem’s back, driving his spear into one of the remaining runes. The construct staggered, its runes flickering erratically. “Finish it!” Sammy shouted.

  The Mist Dragon circled the golem like a storm given form, its breath a howling gust of frost. Ice blossomed across the construct’s limbs as the dragon coiled tighter—an elegant serpent of pale death. With a final, thunderous crack, the golem fractured.

  Then shattered.

  Runes blinked out. Magic bled into the air. Silence fell.

  The dragon hovered a moment longer. It turned toward Lola, lowering its head—not in servitude, but in silent acknowledgement.

  Then, with a soft pulse of light, it dissolved into mist and vanished.

  Lola stood trembling, her breath catching in her throat.

  Sammy stumbled over, panting, grinning wide. “Lola… that was insane.”

  Pupster stepped closer, resting his spear against one shoulder. His voice was low, but steady. “You did good, Lola”

  Nimby fluttered down, settling gently on Lola’s shoulder. He chirped once—soft, proud.

  She smiled, faintly. But her thoughts were already drifting.

  Something had awoken inside her.

  And whatever it was… it was only the beginning.

  The team moved cautiously through the golem’s shattered remains. Mist curled low to the ground, thick with dust and fading heat.

  Sammy kicked through the rubble, blades sheathed across his back, sweat still beading along his brow.

  “Nothing useful,” he muttered, standing tall and sheathing his twin blades.

  Lola sat cross-legged a few paces away, her hands trembling slightly. They gave off an icy fog that danced around the air in front of her.

  “I don’t understand…” she muttered, more to herself than the others. “I’ve cast magic spells a thousand times before, but that... That wasn’t normal.”

  She rubbed her temples, recalling the misty sheen that had enveloped her magic, the way it felt as though the Mist Dragon had surged through her, lending its power to her spell.

  “It wasn’t just a spell,” Sammy said, finally stepping over to her. “That was... something else. I’ve never seen you throw out magic like that, Lola.”

  She didn’t answer right away. Her hand was still faintly glowing, breath coming fast.

  “I didn’t think,” she said quietly. “It just... happened.”

  Her eyes met his—uncertain but burning with something new. “It felt like the Mist Dragon. Like it moved through me.”

  Nimby let out a soft trill from a nearby rock, feathers fluffed and alert.

  Sammy tilted his head, listening. His tail flicked once behind him.

  “He says... you’ve awakened,” Sammy translated slowly. Then grimaced. “Or hatched. His phrasing’s weird.”

  Lola blinked. “Awakened?”

  “Yeah,” Sammy shrugged. “That’s his take. Don’t ask me what it means—half the time he’s speaking in riddles and chirp-haikus.”

  Nimby fluffed up and gave a pointed chirp of protest.

  “Yeah, yeah, keep your feathers on,” Sammy muttered, grinning.

  Pupster straightened, anchoring his spear to his back.

  “Whatever it means, we don’t have time to sit around and puzzle it out. If that golem was guarding this path, there’s no telling what else might be ahead.”

  Lola nodded, though her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

  “You’re right. Let’s keep moving.”

  The team trudged forward, the forest growing denser as the canopy thickened above them.

  Lola kept glancing down at her hands absently.

  Nimby perched on her shoulder, chirping softly as though trying to reassure her.

  Sammy walked ahead. He looked back at Lola.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m just… thinking,” she admitted. “About that spell. About the Mist Dragon. It feels like there’s something more going on here—things we don’t understand yet.”

  “Well, let’s hope we figure it out before it gets us killed,” Pupster grumbled from the rear, his eyes scanning the shadows for any signs of danger.

  “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” Sammy said confidently. “We always do," as he casually slung his arm around Lola’s shoulders, giving her a light, playful squeeze before letting go.

  It was a small gesture, but it lingered just long enough to suggest something unspoken.

  Lola smiled faintly, her cheeks dusted with the barest hint of colour, though she quickly turned her attention to adjusting the strap of her bag.

  Pupster, walking a few steps behind them, didn’t miss the exchange. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, his grip tightening on the shaft of his spear.

  He said nothing, but his tail flicked once—a subtle sign of disapproval. His protective instincts kicked in, though he wasn’t sure if it was because Sammy was pushing boundaries or because Lola didn’t seem to mind.

  Either way, he filed the moment away, making a mental note to keep a closer watch on the two of them.

  Far above, high on the canyon ridge, a figure watched. Cloaked in shadow. Lean. Agile.

  A long, simian tail swished slowly behind him.

  He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at his lips.

  “Hmm,” he mused, voice just a whisper on the wind. “Not bad…”

  Then, with a rustle of wind and cloak, the shadow vanished.